


whispers in sunlight

by eatjamfast



Series: whispers in sunlight [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gentle Sex, Hance - Freeform, Keith and Lance are Best Friends, M/M, Minor Allura/Matt Holt, Minor Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation, pidge is both of their best friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 00:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13470258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatjamfast/pseuds/eatjamfast
Summary: "Lance prayed with all his might that he was not running to that fucking specimen of a man, because he would not be able to live it down if he was practically running a hardon for Keith's mystery boyfriend."(it wasn't.)(alt. title: Lance can't handle having crushes on beautiful men)





	whispers in sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote like half of this while I was on holiday and finished the other listening to an unholy amount of the beach boys while watching b99 reruns. My brain spat out an interesting result of that. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (equal parts centric on hance and also Lance's friendships with his pals)

  

 

There was something about summer that sent Lance into a kind of frenzy.

With no school to occupy his time, all his mind could drift to was the sprawling ocean horizon, the taste of shitty blue slushies and the way the sand felt between his toes. Excitement bubbled up in his chest as he loaded up his car.

The sun was already beating down pleasantly on his back, and he thanked the universe that summer was starting out on such a beautiful day. The sky was an unreal shade of blue, with only a few wisps of thin white cloud to mar it, and they all skirted around the sun as though acknowledging it wasn't their day quite yet.

Hoisting the last of his bags into the boot carefully, he leaned against it and fished his phone out of his pocket. There was one missed call from Pidge, and a message from Keith asking if Lance had managed to fit his rucksack in the car with the amount of beauty products Lance would no doubt be taking. Snorting, Lance typed out a biting reply and quickly called back Pidge.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said sang when she picked up.

“ _Go to Hell_ ,” came her sullen response. “ _Why anyone thought it would be a good idea to set off at seven on a_ Sunday _–_ ”

“Katie, that was _your_ idea,” Lance protested, “you said we'd beat the holiday traffic!”

“Son of a – wait I'm almost at your stop,” she muttered. Lance could hear the squealing of the bus' breaks a little too loudly and pulled the phone away from his ear with a wince. He heard her mutter a thank you to the driver and put her face back to the speaker. “Is Keith with you?”

“No, I think he's on his way from work, though.” Lance was still flummoxed as to why Keith was working a night shift the day before he was going on holiday. He peered over the top of the car to see Pidge making her way down the opposite street. Hanging up, he gave her a wave.

Pidge trudged up his drive, laptop tucked under her arm and a single sports duffel dragging behind her. Lance raised a brow at her.

“How are you alive right now?” she grunted at him, throwing her bag into the boot.

“I'm an enigma. Sometimes, I too, am shocked by how fantastic I look at all times,” he grinned.

“No human should be capable of going to a rave the night before their holiday,” Pidge pointed a finger at him. “You're not an enigma, you're a _monster_.”

Lance took it in his stride, “Insomnia still kicking your arse?”

“Nah,” she shrugged. “Not so much any more.”

“Meaning you probably got a solid two hours last night! Congrats!”

“Dick.”

“Didn't think you were into it.”

“Jesus Christ I'm not dealing with you this early!”

Pidge crawled into the passenger seat and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, pulling the toggles so she looked like less of a person and more some kind of weird worm wearing glasses.

Lance was far too used to her morning grouchiness to let it put him out. He'd been excited for this trip from the very moment Keith had mentioned the possibility of visiting his boyfriend down South in Arus; inviting himself along without any preamble. Naturally, Pidge was goaded into coming with them too despite her intense aversion to sunlight and beaches. Thinking about it, Lance wasn't one-hundred percent sure why Pidge was tagging along on what was essentially a _surfing holiday_ but they were all three of them a strange package deal.

Lance had known Pidge since primary school, and they had both befriended Keith back in secondary school. Due to the fact nobody else could tolerate Lance (although he rarely admitted this to himself), Keith was pretty much a hair-trigger dick at all times, and that Pidge was a total hermit, they had all banded together and ended up at the same university.

He leaned against the car and messed around on his phone until Keith arrived.

When he did, his hair was stuck up every which way and he dived into the backseat without so much as a hello.

“Someone's excited,” Lance grinned, sliding into the car and shoving his key into the ignition.

“You would be too if you were about to get laid for the first time in months,” Keith shot back.

“Sorry can't hear you over all the sex I'm having.”

“Whatever.”

Pidge was already asleep in the passenger seat, snoring softly. Her glasses had slipped until they rested on the upturn of her nose which left her creepy half-open lazy eye peering at him.

 _Fuckin' Roz over here. Aaaalways watching,_ he thought with a shudder. Maybe that's how she always knew when he used to break their house rules, _and_ why she was always so tired. His mind whirred at this new conspiracy – Pidge never slept... Maybe she really _was_ a robot.

Smirking to himself, he picked up his mobile, ready to power through this journey to the other end of the country.

“Oh, hell no.” Keith suddenly piped up, hood slipping back from his forehead. He stared in horror at the phone Lance was hooking up to his radio. “You are not controlling the music for the entire trip.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because not all of us have your weirdly high tolerance for DJ EZ Rock, Lance,” Keith groused, yanking the phone out of his hands to scroll through his library with a faintly disgusted twist to his lips.

“You say that like it's not the most attractive thing about me.”

“Nothing is attractive about you,” came a mumble from Pidge's side of the car.

“I _knew_ you weren't asleep!” Lance gasped dramatically, before swiping the phone from Keith's hands and tapping the first thing he saw. He laughed at the defeated groan Keith gave when Steps started blasting out the speakers. Slumping back in his seat, Keith tried to hide his dopey smile as Lance started bellowing out the words, pulling out of their drive and onto the road.

They only managed an hour of peace before Lance and Pidge took it upon themselves to grill Keith for the very reason they were going on holiday in the first place.

“I don't see why we can't even get a name out of you,” Lance ranted. “For months you've been all moony eyed after meeting some mystery guy and you won't tell us a lick about it!”

“ _Because_ , Dipshit, If I told you his name, it'd be about four minutes flat before Pidge had dragged embarrassing photos of him up from the depths of the Google – ”

“Keith, dude, for the last time it's just 'Google', not 'The Google'!” Pidge groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Whatever. My point still stands.”

“It's not like you can stop her doing that anyway, seeing as we're going to be meeting him in like _five hours time,_ ” Lance reasoned.

Keith ignored him, staring out of the window with his jaw set in a way that said he wasn't going to open his mouth again unless they changed the subject.

“Can't you at least tell us a bit about him other than, 'hey guys just thought you should know I'm in love but he lives at the other end of the country'?” Pidge burst out, twisting around in her seat so she could give him some pretty intense puppy eyes.

“ _Katie_ , if you were that desperate you would have hacked my Facebook account by now,” Keith said dryly.

“Don't you 'Katie' me, Mullet!”

“Don't you 'Mullet' me, Pipsqueak!”

“Don't you 'Pipsqueak' me – ”

“So help me now, I will turn this car around if you two don't shut up!”

Naturally, they ignored Lance's empty threat and bickered for the rest of the journey. Over anything and everything; when Pidge didn't share out her outrageously large packet of Wotsits, when Kieth commandeered the radio and kept switching it back to Planet Rock even after multiple requests that he just _stop_ , when Lance wouldn't meet the speed limit on the motorway because he already had one-too-many points on his licence, and well, you get the picture.

It seemed like a long time coming when they pulled into the car park of a white sandy beach tucked away along the coastline.

Stretching his legs, Lance took in the scenery and whistled.

“Damn. This place is incredible, Keith. Does your boyfriend really live here?”

Keith had this little smile on his face that felt like something they shouldn't be seeing; a private thing that was saved for the moments he was truly happy.

Pidge caught Lance's eyes and shot him a knowing look, before they followed him down the grassy dunes towards the impossible blue of the ocean.

Keith was practically vibrating when they arrived on the beach, and peered out into the waters.

“I said we'd meet him on the beach now-ish so – _ah_! There, that's them now,” Keith said excitedly, pointing off to two dudes jogging out of the spray. Jesus, it was a cliché. They both belonged on a postcard with the afternoon sun shining down on their heads like that.

His heart almost stopped right there and then when he actually took in the shorter of the two. Striding through the sand, board in tow, he flipped his curls easily. Water sprayed the guy next to him and he laughed freely when he was pushed hard for his carelessness.

' _Him_ ' being the human incarnate of all Lance's deepest darkest wet dreams. Dark skin, these huge brown doe eyes, insanely broad shoulders and the most inspiring DSL he'd ever seen in his entire life.

His wetsuit left absolutely nothing to the imagination, not that Lance had any issues at all with that, but it was kind of difficult to keep his eyes trained on the guy's adorable face when that fucking bulge could have taken his eye out even from the distance they were standing from him.

Keith was already running towards the two of them, a beatific grin spreading across his usually gloomy face. Lance prayed with all his might that he was not running to that fucking _specimen_ of a man, because he would not be able to live it down if he was practically running a hardon for Keith's mystery boyfriend.

But Keith was running into the arms of the guy next to him – Japanese, ripped to the Gods and looked like the kind of guy that would call your dad 'sir', then ask you to call him the same in bed. Lance could have rolled his eyes, he should have known the type Keith would go for.

Lance's heart squeezed to hear Keith's laughter. It had been a while since the guy had really let loose and Lance couldn't actually recall the last time he'd looked to genuinely happy. Maybe he wouldn't have to grill the Mystery Boyfriend within an inch of his life after all if he could make Keith smile like that. But Lance's protectiveness knew no bounds, nor did Pidge's, so he wouldn't be safe unless he'd passed whatever mental test they put him through. _No one_ hurt their boy.

Keith and his boyfriend walked with the other guy back up the beach towards them.

Pidge elbowed him in the ribs and whispered, “You're gonna catch flies. Shut your gob.”

Snapping his jaw shut, he ribbed her back before grinning at their company.

“Guys. This is my boyfriend, Shiro.”

“That's no boy. He's a _boulder_ ,” Pidge said dryly. “Where did he dig you up from, man?”

Shiro laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. He was _blushing_.

“I actually kind of pestered him until he let me take him out, did he not tell you guys?” Shiro wrapped his arm around Keith's shoulders.

“He didn't tell us _anything_ ,” Lance said, trying not to sound too pissy.

“The less you nosey buggers know, the better,” Keith snapped before turning to – oh fuck, he was even hotter close up. _Freckles._ He had freckles.

Pidge nudged him again. Right. Focus. _Don't act like a pillock in front of your future husband, Lance._

“Pidge, Dipshit, this is Hunk. He runs the surf shop with Shiro,” Keith said, and Hunk – aptly named, honestly – stepped forward to wave.

Pidge was the first to move, shaking Hunk's hand with what could be considered a friendly smile but Pidge rarely smiled unless she'd hacked through some conglomerate's firewall again to blag herself into yet another tech position.

“Pidge,” she said shortly and he nodded.

Keith jerked his chin towards Lance, “this is the dipshit you've heard so much about.”

Lance squawked indignantly at the casual insult, and glared hard at Keith before turning to Hunk.

“Hey, man,” Hunk grinned, his deep American accent almost sent Lance reeling as he took his hand in a firm grip.

“Yeah. I feel kinda bad, though,” he continued, eyes crinkling up adorably at the corners, “I need a name other than 'dipshit' to call you.”

Lance smiled toothily. “I don't know,” he drawled, “I'm so used to hearing Keith say it...”

“It's Lance, right?” Shiro piped up.

“Aw, you ruined the fun.”

“I don't know how much fun it would be for you if we yelled 'hey Dipshit' every time we saw you,” Hunk shrugged.

“I can confirm. It's fun,” said Pidge and Lance stuck his tongue out at her.

“You guys have the car right?” Shiro asked as they made their way back up the promenade.

“Car, in the broadest sense of the term for that rusted piece of shite Lance drives,” Keith offered.

“Hey! Don't talk about Blue that way!” Lance protested. He didn't get his friends' problem with his car. It was _basically_ mint condition.

“Lance named his car. He talks to it,” Pidge whispered conspiratorially to Hunk, who laughed. God. His laugh was _amazing_.

Hunk bumped their shoulders and Lance thought he might spontaneously combust. “Don't worry, buddy, I named my surfboard.”

“What d'you call her?”

“Yellow.”

“Wow. About as imaginative as me, then.”

“Call it like I see it.”

“You can probably guess which is my ride then.”

“Hmm... I don't know. Could it possibly be... _the blue one_?” Hunk grinned and Lance let out a gasp of faux-surprise.

“Mind reader! Do your powers know no bounds?”

“Christ, enough bonding already. Lance, _please_ don't loose sight of Shiro's car we need to follow it back to the complex,” Keith said seriously.

“We'll just load up the truck, I'll honk when we're on our way out.” Shiro pressed a lingering kiss to Keith's cheek before he and Hunk were lugging their boards over to a battered old chevy. Lance narrowed his eyes. Keith felt compelled to comment on the state of his car when his boyfriend's looked like _that?_

It was still hot enough that they could wind down the windows and let the afternoon breeze filter through the car as they drove, following Shiro's truck up the terrifyingly narrow roads along the cliff-face until they arrived at a small car park behind some sun-bleached shopfronts in the centre of town.

Altea was pretty much the most idyllic place Lance had ever step foot in, a far cry from the depressing concrete jungle he called home. It was all cream plastered buildings with cheerful azalea bushes growing in the front gardens of terrace houses.

Shiro's shop was painted an eye-watering shade of yellow, with bold black lettering spelling out the pricing for different water sport lessons. The inside was even more of an intrusion on the senses, vibrant wall murals behind surfboards, bodyboards, skateboards of every possible colour and cheesy hoola girl statues were littered across the counters. There was even a rack of postcards featuring your typical money-shots of gorgeous beaches against a cherry-coloured sunrise.

They followed him through the back, and up a narrow staircase into the flat above.

It turned out the reason the shop had felt to crammed full of shit was because Shiro had decided to use the rest of the building as the world's snazziest bachelor (well, not any more) pad. The huge open-plan living spaces were understated and stylish.

Lance couldn't help but mournfully think back to his and Keith's house back home; messy and hodgepodge and full of ratty second-hand furniture. Maybe that was the reason Shiro never came around. Was Keith embarrassed by their home?

Shiro shifted uncomfortably next to Keith as Pidge and Lance gawped at the house. Clearly he didn't know what to make of their silence. Hunk, on the other hand, seemed unperturbed and had already started boiling the kettle.

“So,” Pidge said finally, clearing her throat. “You live with Hunk?”

“No, I live on my own.”

“You could live with ten of you with the size of this place.”

“ _Pidge_!” Keith snapped.

“No, no, it's okay,” Shiro laughed. “I'll take it as a compliment.”

“Damn right it was, mate. You've done well for yourself.” Pidge pointed excitedly at his flat-screen TV. “Just _looking_ at that sound system. Lance, we have nothing to worry about. He can provide for our son.”

“ _Guys,_ ” Keith groaned, shaking his head.

Lance grinned, and left them all to chat as he wandered over to the kitchen island. Leaning on it, he blinked slowly at Hunk as his back was turned.

When he'd changed out of his wetsuit, Lance had _no_ idea, but he didn't know if he was happier or disappointed for it. Hunk wore a battered pair of jeans along with a threadbare white tee under a mustard flannel. His dark brown waves stuck up every which way endearingly.

“Tea?” Hunk threw a smile over his shoulder at Lance, whose heart was just about ready to explode.

“Uh – coffee, please.”

“What about them?” he nodded back towards Keith and Pidge.

“Keith'll want some herbal tea if Shiro's got any. Pidge will want three spoonfuls of coffee, no sugar , no milk.”

“Shiro doesn't have coffee granules. Only a machine.”

Lance's eyes widened, “just how rich is this guy?” he hissed.

“We have an online shop, too. It does pretty well,” Hunk said carefully. He looked a little embarrassed, and guilt curled in Lance's stomach unpleasantly. He was so used to being around people who knew it was just his nature to be forthright.

He waffled, flushing again. “Sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude.”

“Keith said you had no filter, I kind of knew what to expect.”

“Just how long have you guys known Keith and known all about us, without _us_ having any idea who _you_ are?” Lance asked, trying to pass it off as good humour but he knew the fear of what Hunk's answer was going to be ran deeper than that.

“Man, I dunno. I was with them when they first met? So a while, I guess.” Hunk rubbed a hand along his jaw before picking some fancy glass cups off a mug tree. He spoke quietly as he went about making everyone's drinks. “Keith was pretty flighty with Shiro when they first hit it off, I was worried that he was gonna hurt him, honestly. I think maybe that's why he didn't tell you guys at first? Because he didn't know if Shiro was gonna be able to handle his shit.”

“And... he told you about it? His shit?” Lance asked, not knowing if he would like the answer. Keith hiding things from him was a strange feeling. They told each other _everything_.

“No way, man. I've just picked up bits and pieces from Shiro.”

Something settled in Lance's stomach, then. A twisted sense of relief that his friendship with Keith hadn't been hijacked by these two strangers.

 _I really need to have a chat with Keith at some point. Preferably with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other._ And it was true. They did need to talk. Because at some point over the past year, Keith had decided that Pidge and Lance didn't need to hear about the good things he had going on in his life, no matter how much they tried to remind him that they did.

 

**

 

They were all sat in a bar when Lance came back to himself properly, feeling looser than before with a drink on the table in front of him, and the sound of his friends' laughter in his ears.

He blinked when he found Keith staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“You're suspiciously quiet. Are you seriously avoiding the question?”

“What?” he grunted, confused. He definitely hadn't been following the conversation properly.

“I was just saying,” Hunk interjected, “that I think American university students are way more disgusting that you guys are.”

“Oh, man, you're so _wrong_.” Pidge cackled.

“I'm going to have to side with Pidge on this one,” Shiro nodded, taking a weirdly dainty sip from his twisty straw. “I've seen some of my old buddies do some pretty horrific stuff out of sheer laziness or desperation.”

Keith smiled sweetly. “Take _Lance_ for example.”

“Hey, hey, don't be rude. I'm probably the most hygienic, _least_ gross person known to man! I literally bathe in rose petals,” he turned his nose up, insulted they'd even think that about him.

“Dude, you bathe in rose petals?” Hunk looked sceptical.

“It's basically like soaking your pores in the fountain of youth,” he nodded sagely, and Hunk laughed.

“No, no, Lance. I refuse to accept this name you built for yourself! I've known you too long! Pidge, _please_ tell me you remember the pizza thing?” Keith said, an evil glint in his eye.

“ _Oh yeahhhh_ ,” Pidge smirked. Lance baulked, would have paid a hefty sum of money for her not to have continued talking. “One time I saw him eat pizza that was under his bed.”

“That's not _so_ bad?” Hunk laughed good-naturedly and Lance fidgeted, knowing there was no way to shut Pidge the fuck up without arousing some kind of suspicion.

“It was from the take out _I_ had bought. The week _before -_ ”

“Oh, god,” Lance moaned, burying his face in his hands as to avoid what would probably be the disgusted expression on Hunk's face.

“ – and had put into the _bin_.”

“ _No_ ,” both boys gasped out at the same time, for monumentally different reasons. Did Pidge not even consider that she was crushing Lance's summertime romance under her dinky little heel?

“And he fished it out – I saw him do it while he thought I wasn't looking – and took it back to his room. And then forgot about it. Until the day he ate it.”

“How are you not dead, man?” Hunk asked seriously, pulling Lance's hands away from his furiously blushing face.

_Only one way to get out of this mess. Confident. Charming. Suave. Play it in your –_

“Bad day to bottom after that, I'll be honest.” Those were _not_ the words he'd planned on leaving his mouth. At all.

“Bad month,” Pidge muttered.

“ _Pidge!_ ”

“Hey I'm just sayin'. Rolo and Nyma both complained about you for weeks. Even after we unclogged the toilet.” _Way do go you little freak,_ Lance glared at her. Hoping he was somehow telepathically communicating with her miserable brain, _you just embarrassed me in front of the most beautiful guy in the world_ and _brought up my exes. Nice._

“You're kind of disgusting, dude, rose petal baths be damned.” Hunk said, but the way one of his hands was still looped around Lance's wrist made the comeback he was ready to spit out fizzle out into the warm fuzzies embarrassingly fast.

“Yeeaaaah... I get that a lot,” he shrugged instead. “But, hey. I've learned my lesson now. I've not eaten floor pizza since I was eighteen!”

“You say that like it's an impressive feat but it was only three years ago,” said Pidge.

Lance just grinned and took another swig from his drink, trying to convince himself that the way Hunk's gaze lingered on his lips around the bottle was a trick of the light.

 

**

 

After a few days spent soaking up in the sun on the beach, Lance found himself in Hunk's easy company more and more often. After giving him a quick refresher on surfing, they spent even more time in the water together than the rest of their friends. Pidge opted to staying in the shallows, picking her way through the soft sands in one of Lance's oversized t-shirts and watching the guys lounging on the boards until a decent wave came in.

He couldn't help but feel a little jealous at the almost constant PDA Keith and Shiro showered over one another.

Shiro was teaching Keith how to stand on the board properly on the third day, when Hunk paddled over and slapped a hand on Lance's shoulder.

“How're you finding it so far, buddy?” he asked, moving so he was sat upright next to Lance's board as the bobbed up and down.

“Unreal. Sometimes I forget we actually have places like this in England.”

Hunk grinned, “Yeah, but it sucks in the winter. Tourism isn't so hot 'cause nobody wants to swim out.”

“Do you?”

“Oh yeah, winter means rougher waters. 'S more dangerous but I dunno, can't stay stuck inside all day when I'm watching the waves come in like they do.”

Lance looked at the excited expression on his face curiously. “So where abouts in America did you live?”

“Samoa, _originally_. Then my family ended up packing up and moving to California for work stuff,” he said with a small smile. “What about you, though? Shiro says you, Keith and Pidge live up North, right?”

“Yorkshire born and bred,” Lance grinned. “My Mam's family is from Cuba, though.”

“So you speak Spanish?”

“ _Un poco,”_ Lance shrugged. “Can understand it more than speak it. And it's mostly stuff like, 'Lance why did you not do the washing up?' or 'Lance get out the bathroom I need a shower'.”

Hunk laughed, bright and beautiful, before nodding understandingly.

They sat in companionable silence, rolling their bodies against the dip of their boards on the water like it was second nature. Lance had to bite his tongue when his eyes snagged on the easy twists of Hunk's wide hips, the way he could see strong muscles shifting under the weight of his thighs.

Whatever. At first, sure, Lance had thought he could get an easy lay with a super hot guy on the holiday but now he'd gotten to know Hunk he wasn't okay with that mindset any more. He was pretty content with their budding friendship just as it was. Of course he was going to appreciate how hot his new mate was – he could think the same things about his other friends if the mood struck him. Right. Yeah. Exactly.

God, who was he kidding. If Hunk asked him, he'd jump into his bed faster than the speed of light.

“...good together, aren't they?”

“Huh?”

“Shiro and Keith. They're good for each other.”

“Yeah,” Lance smiled. “I mean, Keith deserves it.”

“And you? What do you deserve?” Hunk stared at him, and Lance floundered, taken aback by the sudden question.

“Dude, what does that even mean?” he sputtered.

“Well – ” Hunk was interrupted by Pidge's yell.

“Guys! I'm fucking _starving_. Feed me!”

Sighing, Lance rubbed a tired hand over his face and turned to grin at Hunk as he heard Keith shout back, “You're twenty-three years old you can feed yourself!”

“Guess we'll pick this up later,” he said, paddling his board back towards the shoreline. “But for future reference, you're better off asking me questions like that when I'm stoned.”

“Noted. No existentialism while sober,” Hunk laughed as he caught up to him.

The rest of the afternoon spelled out a failed barbecue courtesy of Shiro (“I really thought it would be easy,” he'd said with sad eyes.), and cold fish and chips courtesy of Lance who had dutifully driven into town to buy them all lunch before he realised he couldn't manoeuvrer out of his parking spot without breaking several laws.

And so they ended up in the fading light of late evening with stomachs half full of lukewarm beer, sat around a measly driftwood fire, with the rime from the sea clinging to their skin. Lance couldn't bring himself to mind too much, though, given the pleasant buzz he had going and the way Hunk's arm kept brushing his whenever he moved to throw another stick on the fire.

He caught Pidge staring between them at one point, a speculative look in her eyes that made him feel like she was onto something that he wasn't.

 

**

 

Lance couldn't help but let his mind drift to Hunk, of his anxious frown whenever Shiro tumbled off his board and into the waves, of the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled. There was something about how he looked after all his friends, old and new, with such dedication... well, it made Lance's tummy do somersaults it had _no_ place doing for a guy he'd met a week ago.

He cared so much about everything that it made it hard for Lance to figure out if he cared, y'know, _that way_ about him. But he wasn't in year nine any more, he couldn't just mosey on up to Shiro or Keith and be like, “hey, man, could you ask Hunk if he likes me or _like-likes_ me? No reason. Just wondering. Don't tell him I told you that please.”

_God, even my stupid daydream version of me has no filter._

It was usually so easy for him. He'd just crank up the charm and go for it, and more often than not he got by with that. If by 'get by', you mean wake up sticky and alone after a night of unfulfilling sex. Jesus Christ, he was pathetic.

There was just no way he could let Hunk be another morning-after spent cleaning his sheets. It was dumb, but Lance was starting to fall for the guy. Hard.

There was only a short window of time they had together before Lance, with Keith and Pidge in tow, left for uni back North with hundreds of miles separating them. He wondered how Keith and Shiro did it, being so far away from one another but still managing to be as enamoured as they day they met.

Turning onto his back, he stared at the ceiling above his bed with a stern expression, and imagined it was himself he was looking at. If it was, he'd tell himself to buck up and just enjoy his holiday. He'd throw himself phrases like, 'if it's meant to be, it'll happen' or 'you're only young and you've been in love more times than you can count, he isn't the first and he won't be the last.'

Pulling up that cloak of confidence came easier when he spouted off clichés to himself, and he swung his legs out of bed and walked over to the window, reminding himself that he was lucky to have a view like that for a holiday when he could barely afford the bills.

It was a new day and Lance was determined not to let his mood sour.

 

**

 

 

Later that morning, Lance found himself in a quaint cafe overlooking the harbour, clutching a large coffee between his hands like it was his lifeline. Shiro said Vrepit Sal's was the best coffee in town, but Lance was sure he was lying because all he was tasting was watered down piss, honestly. That was one thing he could appreciate about city life – there was good coffee no matter which hipster-fied shop you went to.

Pidge _had_ said she was going to meet him there, _had_ said she would pay for breakfast, but she was yet to turn up and Lance didn't know how many coffees he could order before either she'd refuse to pay the bill or he'd shit himself. Either or.

Raised voices shook him from his thoughts and he saw Pidge stomping down the pavement towards him, followed by – Lance lowered his sunglasses – _Matt_? And behind him, Allura wandered down with a faint smile on her face.

Lance didn't get the chance to be surprised at seeing the two of them in Altea of all placed because Matt was complaining so loudly everyone in the street turned to look at him.

“I can't believe you went on holiday and didn't tell me about it!” Matt wailed, pulling up a chair and nodding a quick acknowledgement to Lance, “hiya mate,” he said briefly before turning back to his sister, “Why didn't you tell me about it?”

Pidge rolled her eyes so heavily Lance was kind of worried they'd fall right out of her skull.

“There are lots of things I don't tell you, Matt. Besides _you_ didn't tell _me_ you were going on holiday either.”

“Allura! _Babe_. Are you hearing this? Where did my sweet little sister go? What is this _creature_ in front of me doing? Actually. You know what?” Matt pouted far too impressively for a man nearing his thirties. “I don't care. Just don't feed it after midnight is all I'm saying!”

Allura just sighed, swiping the coffee from between Lance's palms with a tired look. “I need this more than you do,” she told him and Lance wasn't going to deny Allura anything. Ever. That woman could fuck shit up.

“I'm pretty sure I saw mimosas on the breakfast menu,” he offered.

“Is that so.” She stared at him, one immaculate brow arched.

That was all she needed to do to get Lance leaping out of his seat obediently with a,“Yes, ma'am.”

Lance had known Allura for a long time, even before she and Matt had started dating in year eleven. They'd been next-door neighbours all of Lance's life and she had babysat him, so naturally Lance used to have a monster-sized crush on her for most of his early teens. He still thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, but his feelings kind of dissipated into 'I'm a little bit scared of you and also you're more like super hot step-sister material instead of super hot girlfriend material'.

He returned to the table with Allura's drink, to find Matt was still ranting at Pidge, and Pidge was still staring at him impassively.

“Remind me again why you're married to him?” Lance asked in a stage-whisper.

“Well, you know how these things go. I was young and foolish. He was a handsome stranger with money, offering me the world,” she said dramatically, flicking her pale hair over her shoulder.

“Ah right, how could I forget,” Lance grinned.

Everyone, probably including Matt himself, still had no idea how he'd managed to wrangle a date with the school's heartthrob. That date had been to a _train museum_. And she still continued to see him. Eleven years later, they were married, had a dog and a house with a little picket fence and everything.

Lance smiled winningly at the group as he pushed out his chair, “as much as I'd love to stay and listen to you guys argue... actually, no. I was wrong. I really don't want to stay, so I have no regrets leaving you guys to it.”

Allura groaned into her drink.“Don't leave me with them.”

“Don't think you get off for free, young man,” Matt grumbled. “You didn't tell me you were going on holiday, either.”

“Dude, I've been talking about it non-stop for weeks on my instagram.” Lance frowned.

“You didn't accept my follow request!” Matt whined.

“Oh. Sorry. My bad. Well, anyway, I've got things to do... people to see, you know the drill,” he gave them all a short wave before wandering off.

Lance let his feet carry him towards the surf shack, and peered around the door to see Hunk stood behind the counter looking incredibly bored.

“Delivery!” he called out in a gruff voice, head still poking around the corner.

Hunk looked up hopefully. “Lance! Buddy! _Please_ tell me you brought coffee?”

“What? No. I brought me, and I am fully capable of breaking into Shiro's flat and making you some coffee. Free of charge.”

“Yeeeeeah, I wouldn't go up there right now.”

“Uh, why?”

“Keith just went up there wearing some _very_ short shorts...”

Lance perked up, “were they black?”

“I tried not to look.”

“Understandable. Cast your mind back though, my man.”

“Yeah. Sure. They were black I think.”

“They're not his sexy shorts, then. His sexy shorts are _red._ ”

“Dear lord.”

“Yeah,” Lance huffed. “It is a sight to behold. The legs on that boy.” He whistled.

Hunk shot him a funny look before turning back to whatever papers were occupying his time. Frowning, Lance reached over and plucked one of the papers from under Hunk's hands. He glanced it over once and was about to make a comment on how he should have been paying attention to _him_ and not boring business stuff when he looked back up and realised how close they were.

It didn't help that Hunk wasn't saying anything, wasn't moving an inch. Just staring.

The cheesy club beats pumping from the speaker seemed to fade into the background, and everything in Lance's universe zeroed in on _Hunk_.

His eyes were flitting between Lance's eyes and lips like he couldn't decide which was more important to focus on. Lance knew which he'd prefer that attention to be on.

Leaning in slowly, keeping his eyes trained on Hunk, he held his breath and prayed to every fucking God out there that he'd get to _finally_ kiss him, to finally know explicitly whether or not his tongue slicked up against his own would taste like that stupid tropical fruit gum he chewed –

There was a flicker of apprehension in Hunk's eyes.

And just like that the moment was gone.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, leaving Lance leaning precariously over the counter with the sensation of cold water being dunked over his head.

“So, Pidge tells me you skate?” Hunk asked, voice as energetic as usual while he busied himself with the account books again.

“U – used to. Not so much any more,” Lance said, hating how much his composure had been shaken.

“That's a shame. Why'd you stop?”

“A girl.” he replied flatly.

“Ah, that's always the way,” Hunk said sympathetically.

“Ain't it just. She was amazing, though, best in our team. We were literally weeks away from scoring a sponsorship, but I guess it all got to her head and she ended up falling into the party scene way too hard,” Lance said. He cast his mind back to her, and although it had all fallen apart – both the team and their relationship – he still thought well of her. They kept in touch now and again, but there was nothing left for them to salvage so he had left it in the past.

“Were you guys together?” Hunk's voice sounded casual, but Lance sensed something beneath it and his chest tightened hopefully.

“Yeah. But y'know, some things just have to end. It was a while ago now, been a while since I was with anyone really,” he said, keeping his eyes trained on Hunk for some kind of positive reaction.

“Same here, man.” Was all he got.

Lance had an inkling that Hunk was interested, and usually he was confident in his ability to clock onto that kind of thing. At least, he _thought_ he was until he was just swerved to high hell just now.

There was something about Hunk that made it hard to throw up that sure-fire attitude. He was just genuinely such a nice guy, considerate and caring in everything he did while still maintaining that strange self-assuredness he carried himself with. It did painful things to Lance's chest that Hunk could be as beautiful inside as he was outside.

Not that the guy didn't have his downfalls – that horrendous carsickness, how he talked with his mouth full, and the way he didn't seem to feel any inclination to wear a shirt half the time (Lance was still undecided on whether or not this was actually a negative) but Lance found the good in him seemed to outshine the bad.

Self-doubt wriggled its way into Lance's head, and in response he had to tell himself that if his attempts at flirting went South then he could either pie it off as a joke or never step foot in Arus again. Fair play.

“So when was your last relationship?” Lance finally asked when he'd mustered up enough courage.

Hunk looked at him, like he was waiting for the question but also surprised that he actually got it.

“Like, a year ago? Nothing dramatic that ended it, though. We just kind of... drifted apart,” he shrugged. But now he was looking at Lance again, instead of politely avoiding eye-contact and he considered that a win. Lance never did well in awkward situations.

“Was she back in America?”

“Nah, I moved to England when I was nineteen for university, and just... never really left? I met him at uni,” Lance didn't miss the emphasis on 'him', “and when we both graduated we realised we didn't really have a whole lot in common 'cept for school.”

“That sucks, man,” Lance offered with a smile. “Onwards and upwards, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Hunk said slowly, clearly not sure how to take that.

They sat for a while in companionable silence, just enjoying one another's company until a customer came in and then the shop was less of a spot for Lance to indulge in the eye candy and more all-business as Hunk went over the rental prices for boards.

Figuring that was his cue to leave, Lance lifted his arm in a lazy wave, “I'll catch you later, buddy. Maybe tonight if you fancy going out with us all?”

Hunk looked up from the document the customer was signing and smiled, “Yeah sure. Keith gave me your number so I'll hit you up.”

Lance frowned as he left, wishing he'd have been able to give Hunk his number himself. Damn that stupid mullet, could he not tell that Lance was panting after the guy?

The whole situation was kind of fucked, honestly.

Lance had a good feeling that Hunk was interested in him. Obviously, because why would they have been literal inches away from kissing if Hunk wasn't? That meant there was something holding him back, and that's what was nagging at Lance.

He was usually so good in situations like this.

Sighing heavily, he made his way down to the pier thinking he deserved a goddamn ice cream for the way he was being tossed every which way like a yoyo by this guy.

 

**

 

Hunk didn't text Lance. Or call him.

Which made Lance even more suspicious that the _Thing_ _™_ back in the surf shack had been something more than they both played it off to be.

Pidge must have noticed something was up, because she sat down next to him on Shiro's balcony and thrust a cup of coffee into his hands. While he appreciated the gesture, he was fairly sure one sip of a coffee made by Pidge would literally kill him. Shit was like jetfuel.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“You gonna tell me why you're moping around?” she said bluntly.

“I'm not _moping_.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Is it about Keith?”

He looked at her in alarm. His mood wasn't specifically about Keith at that moment in time, but he didn't realise Pidge had picked up on the growing feelings of unease Lance had about the security of their friendship.

“You know he would never intentionally hurt your feelings. There's always, like, ten thousand more layers to the reason he acts the way he does,” she said gently.

“Yeah... I know,” Lance sighed. Well, if they were on the topic anyway he might as well vent about it. “It's just... doesn't it make you mad? That he was so determined to hide everything from us?”

“It does. But not in the same way it makes you mad,” said Pidge, a thoughtful look on her face. She blinked one, then looked up at Lance with serious hazel eyes. “You guys are more similar to each other than me. I moved past feeling butthurt about it pretty fast.”

“I'm not _butthurt_ ,” Lance protested.

“Mate. Your best friend kept his relationship a secret from you for practically half a year. You are definitely butthurt.”

Lance didn't even dignify that with a response. He heard the door to the flat open somewhere behind him, and looked at Pidge, willing her to just say her part and then they'd never have to talk about _feelings_ with each other ever again.

“So. Yeah. Talk to him. It won't change the way he feels about you, just make him more conscientious about his actions from now on.”

“Man, why can't he just understand that I love him and only want the best for him?” Lance said miserably, and Pidge patted his arm sympathetically before looking up.

“Oh, hey, Hunk,” she said and Lance startled, looking behind him to see a Hunk stood there awkwardly. His gaze was downcast, not meeting Lance's eyes. “Jesus, tell me your not in a mood too?”

Hunk blinked at her, before carefully training his expression into that familiar sunshine smile, but there was something a little... _off_ about it.

“Me? Bad mood?” he opened his arms wide with a wink. “Think you've got the wrong guy, Pidge.”

Pidge snorted, and looked like she fully did not believe him one bit.

Things started feeling a lot more companionable when Shiro and Keith returned from the local Aldi, arms laden with suspiciously high-percentage off-brand alcohol. Pidge had swiped the coconut rum from Lance after he'd lined up two glasses for him and Hunk, and stuck her tongue out at him before uncapping the bottle and chugging a worryingly large amount, smacking her lips.

Hunk stared at her in horror, and Lance patted his back. “You get used to her.”

“I never want to get used to that,” he said, staring after her with wide eyes as she continued to casually swig the rum like it was a froot shoot. “She's too small, I don't – ”

Lance grinned. “Rule one of drinking with Katie Holt? Don't try to keep up with her. She is a creature of the night and I once saw her skull half a bottle of Jack after six pints of cider.”

“Her name's Katie?” Hunk blinked, chewing on his straw.

“I just told you a five foot tall girl drank enough to kill a man, and that's what you took from it?”

“She doesn't look like a Katie,” Hunk said, squinting at her.

Lance leaned in, taking a swig off his beer. “Don't tell her I told you this, okay?”

“Never,” Hunk vowed, eyes glinting mischievously. Troublemaker was a good look on Hunk, he decided, but before he could do something stupid like _tell him that_ , Lance continued with his story.

“Me 'n Keith used to call her pigeon because she was a greasy little nerd who never washed her hair – so, it was like, she was a gross street bird,” he said. In hindsight, they definitely could have been more creative with their name-calling but being fourteen and failing English, that was the best they could come up with.

“That's so mean!” Hunk gasped, pushing Lance playfully.

“Nah, dude. She literally does not give two shits what people think of her, and somewhere along the way it just got shortened to Pidge. And it stuck.”

“Why can't I tell her you told me?”

“Because she washes her hair now, and gets weirdly offended if you imply otherwise,” Lance said, and Hunk peered out after their friend curiously. She had always been on odd one.

They were are way less sober than they should have been that early in the evening when Allura and Matt rocked up to join them, brandishing fancy bottle of bubbly that Shiro accepted graciously.

Lance had _somehow_ managed to avoid Keith for most of the night, and he could tell his friend was beginning to catch onto something in the way he'd miraculously finish his tab if Keith came onto the balcony to have a cigarette too, or whenever he tried to spark up a conversation Lance suddenly had _anywhere else_ to be.

It made his gut twist, seeing the confusion and hurt on Keith's face, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He would talk to him eventually, but trying to navigate complicated feelings when they were both pissed was a minefield he wasn't willing to take a stroll through.

So he stuck by Hunk's side like glue, because he didn't seem to mind the company at all but mostly because Lance wanted any excuse to check out Hunk's butt when he wasn't paying attention. Creepy? Yes. But was he ashamed of it? No.

It was pretty late when they got to the club, and Hunk seemed happy to just watch as Lance dove for the dance floor, slotting himself in-between Pidge's wildly jumping body and the guy she'd been completely oblivious to, who was very clearly being a creep.

She yelled with delight when she noticed he was there, linking their hands and forcing him to join her in something that could have been dancing if you squinted _really_ hard and stood about twenty feet away from them. It was times like this Lance questioned why he didn't try to get Pidge to come out clubbing with him more often.

He let himself sway, smiling at nothing in particular as he enjoyed the feeling of the bass pumping through his bones from the too-loud speakers. The music was awful. So, naturally, Lance was having the time of his life. Whooping whenever the DJ fazed predictably through dance songs and old favourites.

He was lost in what must have been the fifth song when he became aware of eyes on him. Twisting in time to the song he locked eyes with Hunk, who was sat by the bar with a dazed expression. They stared at each other for a beat too long, and Lance felt his cheeks flush with more than the sticky heat of the club when he broke off eye-contact.

 _It's shit like this that makes me think he's after more than friendship. I'm_ not _fucking imagining it._

Swallowing his pride, he tipped his chin back up and cast a knowing look up at Hunk. Rolling his body, he looked away again and twisted his hands in the air.

Lance's confidence was building more and more the longer Hunk kept looking his way, and he continued to let the sinuous twist to his hips keep his eyes on him, delighting in the half-lidded set to his gaze and the way he was clutching his beer bottle a little too tight. Laughing, he spun back around and found Pidge grinning at him widely.

It was at that moment the whole thing became very real. He was no longer lost in that daze you fell into when you knew someone was checking you out, the way you reacted instinctively to the feeling of being wanted and letting them know you wanted them right back. Because Pidge was looking at him like she'd known what was happening the entire time.

Suddenly the dance floor was too hot, too loud, too much of everything and he became very aware of the sweat sticking his shirt to his back, the ache in his legs.

She winked, and he stuck his tongue out at her. Fumbling for his cigarettes, he shook them in her face.

“I need – need a fuckin' cig,” he yelled into her ear and felt her nod, then link arms with him as he dragged them both out of the crowd and onto the patio.

He flopped down tiredly on one of the few vacant deck chairs and blinked through his dizziness. After about five minutes of peace, what should have been more than enough time to sort his fucking life out, he groaned when he heard the pitter-patter of tiny girl feet coming towards him.

“ _Lance_! Lance, get this – ” Pidge walked towards him with worryingly sure steps. She pointed to where Matt and Shiro were stood together. “Matt'n Shiro _know_ each other!”

“Congratulations, Pidge, your family has come together as one,” Lance said, too tired to think up a pun about her big brother figure and actual big brother knowing one another. He reassured himself lamely that he would have come up with something good had he been sober.

And while Pidge went on a spiel about Matt and Shiro being classmates back in the day, Lance just nodded along and lit a cigarette, letting the nicotine and alcohol take his head for a spin. He needed a distraction. Needed to compose himself.

“...Like, me for example,” Pidge said loudly and Lance looked up at her, confused. He really hadn't been listening too her. She plucked Lance's cigarette from between his lips and took a long drag before putting it back where she'd found it.“I didn't wear a bra until I was, like, fifteen.”

“Shut up!” Shiro covered his ears, looking horrified as Pidge grinned widely at him. Lance had no idea when Shiro and Keith had joined them. “I do not need to hear this.”

Keith let a small chuckle slip past his usually tight-lipped expression, the hazy look in his eyes told Lance that his friend had surpassed his usual six-drink limit. He almost smiled at him, then his sluggish brain reminded him he was supposed to be _mad_ at Keith, not have fuzzy friendship feelings for him.

“Shiro, you're not my dad,” Pidge slurred, glaring at him.

“Shiro is everyone's dad,” Lance countered and her eyes widened, glancing between Keith and Shiro with a faintly disgusted expression.

“I didn't know you were into that,” she said in a hushed whisper to the couple. Keith roared with laughter, while Shiro looked like he wanted to cry.

“Lance, my buddy!” Hunk burst out into the smoking area, “I finally got Frank to put on Cascada for you!”

“Who the fuck is Frank?”

“The DJ!”

“You knew the DJ the whole time and didn't ask him to put my angel on? Betrayal!” Lance gasped, placing a hand over his heart.

“No time for betrayal! Only dancing!” Hunk flung out his hand, wriggling his fingers in an all-too-tempting invitation.

“You fuckin' – yeah, you're right, let's go,” Lance laughed, grabbing him and launching them back into the club.

Lance vaguely wondered why Hunk suddenly felt like dancing, and then saw the three empty plastic cups stacked together in his hand as he chucked them towards a table when they headed back inside.

_Note to self, jaegerbombs are Hunk's magic dancing potion._

“Leave room for Jesus, boys!” He heard Keith yell delightedly.

Hunk couldn't dance for shit, it turned out.

So when everyone turned up to join them, he laughed along good-naturedly when he bust out a shoddy attempt at the running man and Lance felt his heart swell two sizes as he swayed his hips alongside Allura's. Apparently the majority of the group didn't have the same stamina for dancing as Pidge and Lance, so as the club got steadily busier, they made their way outside.

Commandeering a table, they huddled together against the chill of the ocean breeze. Lance found himself sandwiched between Hunk and Keith, which wasn't awkward at _all_.

Keith laughed at something Pidge bit out, probably at his own expense, and wrapped his arm around Lance's shoulder, leaning into his side. Without thinking, Lance shoved him away. Hard.

He stumbled back off the bench with wide eyes, and everyone went quiet.

Most of their friends were aware by now that the two boys had an easy affection between them. Years of physical fighting through their teenage year had lent to them not being shy of using their bodies to express their friendship, and it was rare either one of them rejected that.

“ _Dude_ ,” Keith spat, crossing his arms. “What is up with you today?”

Lance laughed a sad, hollow sound and suddenly everything felt very distant from himself. Like the words he was saying weren't being said by him at all.

He snatched up Keith's wrist and dragged him away from the patio, down towards the beach. Lance ignored all of Keith's half-hearted protests. He kept lugging his friend along behind him until he was sure they were far out enough to avoid being overheard.

Lance rubbed a tired hand over his face and stared at Keith, whose chest was heaving from frustration.

Keith rounded on him, eyes glinting. “What was all that about? What is wrong with you?”

“I just... I just don't know what's going on with you any more.” Lance replied awkwardly, voice small.

“Uh, what's _happening_ , Lance, is that I'm _happy_!” Keith said in that taunting way that used to get them into hormone-charged fights back when they were kids. Now, it just made Lance feel sad because he knew it was how he threw his defences up.

“I know you are. Everyone in a ten mile radius knows you're happy!” Lance burst out, wincing at how that sounded. He wished he could be more eloquent but even sober, being eloquent was never something he'd excelled at.

Wincing, he continued, “What I'm trying to say is that you didn't, at any point over the past year, think to share _why_ you were happy?”

“But I _told_ you why.” said Keith emphatically, throwing up his hands.

“No. No, you told us you had a boyfriend. But basically withheld any and all information about your relationship from Pidge and I, dude. That _hurts_.” Lance wished his voice hadn't broken at the end of his sentence, it made him feel even more pathetic than he already did.

“I...” Kieth seemed lost for words.

“I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, man. I'm just saying... like, did you spend so long thinking you were worthless that you forgot your actions can actually hurt the people around you?”

Keith fell silent. Tears were welling up in Lance's eyes, and he knew that he was only getting so emotional because he was drunk, he _knew_ that. Yet Keith was stood opposite him with tear tracks down his own cheeks as well. Lance didn't know yet if that was because he'd hurt his feelings or he'd expressed _his own_ well enough.

“Keith, you're my _best friend_. You have been for years. So I _want_ to know what's happening in your life, good or bad. I don't know if it's shitty of me to ask that of you or not?”

“It's not,” he mumbled, scrubbing furiously at his own eyes. “I didn't even _think_. God, Lance, I'm so sorry.”

“And I get it, mate, I really do. You get so wrapped up in your own head you forget there are people around you trying to unravel it for you.”

“What does that even mean?” Keith hiccuped, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“I dunno. I'm fuckin' rat arsed, but my point still stands. We care about you, Keith. That's why we care about the things that make you happy too.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't even know you felt that way,” Keith mumbled, watching the toes of his trainers as they scuffed about in the sand.

Hurt lanced through his chest at that. But Keith couldn't help the way he felt about himself, like he was worth so little and didn't matter to anyone. Sometimes that hurt Lance beyond just sympathy for his friend, sometimes it made him angry. That Keith couldn't trust in them, couldn't understand that what they felt for him was real and he was worth everything to them.

Hell, Lance's family treated Keith like another son, and Lance felt that bond deeper than he'd ever admit. Sometimes he forgot that he and Keith _weren't_ actually brothers. That was the thing though; his self-depreication was part of the package deal, and although it frustrated him to no end, Lance wouldn't have it any other way.

“I'm sorry, too, man. For not saying anything sooner,” Lance said softly, leaning down to try and catch his gaze. He offered a small smile when Keith finally met his eyes, and opened his arms wide for a hug.

Keith slammed himself into Lance's embrace, and they wrapped their arms around each other tightly, snuffling pathetically into each other's shirts. Lance didn't even care that Keith was getting snot on his pulling shirt.

When they pulled away awkwardly, Keith sniffed loudly and offered him a shaky grin.

“God. What a pair we are,” he said, then jerked his chin back towards the street. “You gonna head back in?”

“Nah, you go. Shiro's waiting for you. I'm gonna stay here for a spell,” Lance said softly, and Keith nodded understandingly. He knew Lance didn't like to be seen as overly emotional – it went against the whole persona he threw up around himself. Charming and happy at all times, _not_ covered in his best mate's snot with puffy eyes. That was so not cute.

“There's someone waiting for you, too,” Keith said quietly, meeting Lance's eyes seriously and then walking away before Lance could come up with a reply.

He watched Keith wobble back up the beach, smiling faintly. He felt a lot better than before, and knew the conversation could have ended a lot worse than it did. Things would be strained between them now, that much Lance knew. Because actions spoke louder than words, and it would take time for Keith to start remembering that he mattered just as much as the other people in Lance's life.

Fishing his cigs out of his flannel pocket, he let one rest between his lips as he turned back to face the ocean.

After a moment of patting around his pockets, he realised he'd given Allura his lighter earlier and groaned.

“Need a light?” A voice piped up behind him.

“Jesus!” Lance yelped, turning to see Hunk stood behind him with his hands shoved into his pockets. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” he said, not sounding very apologetic at all, as he plonked himself down beside Lance. “You okay?”

“Better, now, actually,” he said, trying to aim for a sunny smile and landing somewhere around a grimace that didn't convince Hunk at all.

“Lance.” he said seriously, holding out a lighter.

Huffing out a heavy sigh, Lance plucked it from between his fingers and sparked up. “I dunno. We chatted about some stuff that needed to be talked about but... Eh. I've just got some shit on my mind at the minute.”

_I've got you on my mind at the minute. What do you think of me? Why do you seem to avoid the inevitable?_

“Don't really wanna dump my stuff on Keith when he's having the time of his life, y'know?” Lance continued quietly.

“So why don't you tell me about it?” he said, “get it off your chest.”

“Self-doubt, I guess?” was the only thing Lance could offer without giving the game away.

“We all have issues, Lance,” Hunk said gently, squeezing his hand. “What's important is we have people around us who help figure them out. You shouldn't fight through anything on your own.”

Lance felt ridiculous. Knowing Hunk's overactive imagination he probably thought Lance was dealing with something way more serious than - “am I good enough for you?”

He nodded glumly, wanting to speak out but not finding any voice inside of him to do it. Huh. That was a first.

“I have anxiety.” Hunk said quickly, averting his gaze when Lance's neck snapped up to look at the boy next to him. “Ever since I was, like, fourteen. No reason for it, but it's just there. It makes stuff difficult, y'know? It's never about social situations, weirdly enough, they actually make me feel _better_. Mostly just safety stuff... I find it hard. To feel safe. I don't know. I'm not making too much sense, am I?”

It was true, he was rambling, but Lance wasn't so much of an idiot that he couldn't figure out the gist of it. He wrapped his free arm around Hunk's shoulders and leaned hard against him.

“No. You made sense, don't worry – wait. That's probably not the best thing to say,” Lance laughed and he felt Hunk's responding chuckle as it jostled him against his side.

There didn't really seem to be anything to say after that.

Hunk had relaxed, and Lance wondered if it was something he had been wanting to share with him for a while. It made his heart skip a little, that Hunk was confiding in him.

Lance thought it was brave to tell someone that kind of thing, to speak about it so candidly and with no shame. Whenever he'd been there supporting Keith in the intense bouts of depression he went through, his friend was often embarrassed to talk, ashamed of what he was going through no matter how many times Lance tried to tell him it was _okay._

The waves crashed at the bottom of the shoreline, and Lance looked up at the star-speckled sky above them feeling a little tight-chested as he whispered, “I hope you feel safe, with me.”

He wanted to hold his breath at the way Hunk tensed a little at the confession, but forced his lungs to breathe easily, not wanting to betray how close he was to admitting his actual... _feeling_ -feelings for Hunk.

“I do, bro,” Hunk said softly. His voice was so careful that Lance knew he wasn't trying to no-homo the moment with his friendly pet name, that he meant something _more_.

 _It's now or never you sad sack of shit,_ Lance told himself and before he had time to think, or time to talk himself out of what was probably a terrible decision, he twisted so he was sitting a little straighter and facing Hunk.

He wasn't really thinking of anything as he tipped his chin upwards to press their lips together.

Hunk inhaled sharply, and Lance closed his eyes because the last thing he wanted to see was those warm brown eyes staring at him like he was an unwelcome bug in his drink or whatever. So he stayed there, leaning in a little harder when there wasn't any sign of the rejection he was expecting.

Then Hunk leaned in properly, resting his hand gently on the curve of Lance's jaw and Lance swore he saw fireworks behind his eyelids.

It was a small, chaste thing but when they separated, Lance was starting to worry his heart might, like, explode or something because he had never felt so nervous to bust a move on someone before.

“Lance, I – ”

“ _Nope_.” he said quickly, averting his eyes. “So before your brain starts workin' overtime like I know it will, this wasn't, like, a pity-kiss or anything like that. It was totally because I think you're actually super hot and I've been crushing on you since I first saw you. Also I have stared at your butt for an unholy amount of time this week, and now I've said that out loud it sounds so creepy and I just – ”

Lance found himself shut up mid-babble in the best way possible: a firm mouth pressed breathlessly against his own.

Hunk, for someone who was open about the fact it had been a while since he'd dated, was a fantastic kisser. Gentle and languorous, making Lance feel like he was floating on fucking cloud nine even though that soft grip he'd established on the back of his neck made him feel grounded.

Lance parted his lips on a sigh, letting himself be swept along, and Hunk curled his tongue into his mouth softly. Groaning, Lance pressed against his tongue with his own, opening his mouth wider and leaning against his chest harder because it was almost _too good_ to be this close with someone.

A push and pull, teasing strokes until Hunk finally gave into himself and angled his head so he could slick his tongue alongside Lance's reminding him intimately of how amazing it would be if they could do this every second of every day.

Hunk continued to assert that dizzyingly careful dominance, and although it was heady and hot and sexy, he was still taking it _slow_. Every drag of his lips against Lance's was purposeful, and every time he went back to fucking his tongue into his mouth it was – well, let's just say Lance couldn't give two shits about the outstanding impression of a tent his shorts were doing.

Lance dragged his hand from Hunk's cheek into his hair, letting his fingers tangle easily in those soft curls and couldn't help but wonder at how soft it was despite almost always being drenched in ocean spray.

 _Gonna have to ask him about his hair products at some point,_ Lance thought and then laughter bubbled up in his chest until he had to break them apart, resting his forehead against Hunk's. Their breath gusted over one another's cheeks and Lance marvelled at the dark brush of Hunk's ridiculously thick eyelashes against the flush of his cheeks. Little things like the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and the way his lips didn't seem to have a cupid's bow, soft and full _and holy shit_ Lance had just been kissing those lips and that seemed kind of crazy right now.

“You're unreal,” Hunk breathed, and Lance startled when he met those brown eyes and saw the unmasked affection in them.

“Who, me?” Lance smiled, pressing a silly kiss against his nose.

“You... uh, you've really been crushing on me since we first met?” Hunk asked shyly, and Lance rearranged himself so he was in Hunk's lap facing him because his knees were kinda hurting from kneeling honestly and he wanted to give himself a half-decent excuse to sit in Hunk's lap.

“Yeah, dude. I nearly cried when I saw Keith running towards you guys that first day because I did _not_ wanna be carrying a torch for his boyfriend,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“You and Keith...” Hunk started, then shook his head and bit his lip.

“What?” Lance frowned, clocking on to the nervous bite to his voice.

“You guys never...”

“Oh, gross, dude no!” Lance barked out. “He's, like, my best friend and I love him more than life but we could never be like that.”

“I didn't mean to assume anything, man, I just get in my head and I saw how you were together and – ”

“No, dude, you don't need to apologise for yourself. You're not the first to think that but I'm telling you here and now, there's nothing like that between us. He... he's been through a rough time of it and I was one of the few people who stuck by him so we're close. He's head over heels for Shiro and, uh, I'm pretty crazy about you, you know?”

Hunk smiled all pretty at him at that, and Lance's heart did its little skip which seemed to be routine whenever he got a flash of Hunk's pearly whites nowerdays.

“Oh, I don't know, maybe I need some clarification,” Hunk drawled.

“You want clarification, big guy?” he purred, grinning as he managed to wrestle him to the sand and bear down on him, pressing their lips together again because there didn't seem to be anything else more important than the gentle pressure of Hunk's mouth against his in that moment.

 

**

Even though Lance woke up that morning alone, he didn't feel quite as empty as before. He and Hunk had sat on the beach in peaceful company for a few hours before the chill got a bit too much for the two of them. Hunk had walked Lance back to Shiro's flat, pressing a careful kiss against his cheek, and smiling shyly as their hands lingered together in an unwillingness to let go.

He wasn't an idiot; he knew a tipsy kiss didn't guarantee him a relationship. But then again, Hunk seemed a lot more earnest than the other people he'd macked off with after one-too-many beers.

 He felt his phone buzz where it lying under his pillow, and he was startled out of his daydream when he checked the message.

It felt like his blood turned into ice.

 

_**From: Hunk Garrett** _

_Meet me on the waterfront at 11, I think we should talk about last night? X_

 

Not that he'd done a whole lot of texting with Hunk, but it felt... off.

He glanced at the time, and realised with immense relief that he had time to shower. If Hunk was gonna be all 'yeah no I don't really go after beanpole twinks after all', then Lance would make sure he looked hot enough that Hunk might just regret it.

Shiro and Keith were still in bed, and Pidge was nowhere to be found so at the very least he wouldn't have to deal with them reading him like an open book about why he looked so stressed out.

He slipped on his trainers and left for the waterfront, tapping out a quick follow-up text to Hunk with trembling fingers.

 

_**To: Hunk Garrett** _

_Blue parked next to the pier. Meet me there? X_

 

The entire five-minute walk was a nerve-wracking one.

Hunk was stood next to his car as instructed, leaning against the bonnet casually. He didn't _look_ like he was about to crush Lance's ego, but Lance knew that looks could be deceiving.

“Hi,” Lance lifted his arm in a half-hearted wave when Hunk caught his eye with that sunshiney smile. He wrung his hands nervously and hovered nearby, not knowing if he should hug him or kiss his cheek or just full on start crying.

Hunk frowned, and stepped towards him.

“Lance?”

Baulking, Lance laughed awkwardly and blurted, “N – Nice weather out, huh?”

“ _Lance._ ” Hunk repeated, reaching out to grab Lance's fingers where they were drumming against his bonnet.

“Y – yeah?” he stammered.

“I'm not going to tell you that kiss was a mistake or anything, if you're stressing about that.”

“Then why do you look so serious?” Lance hated how plaintive he sounded.

“I don't wanna hurt your feelings.”

 _Fuck_ , Lance thought, _here we go_.

Lance gritted his teeth. “Just say it.”

“Dude... I just. Yeah. I know how much you love your car but how's about we go for a _walk_ instead of a drive?”

“Uh. Why?” Driving calmed Lance's nerves. That's the whole reason he wanted to meet at the car. Besides, then if things went tits up he could just drive them off a cliff instead of trying to deal with rejection, it seemed like a far better option.

“I said I didn't wanna hurt your feelings!”

“Hunk, just say it!” Lance almost shrieked, nerves getting the better of him.

“Your car has mould growing on the inside of the windows, dude, it's gross!” Hunk burst out.

Relief swooped through him, though a mild annoyance was hot on its heels.

“Hey. _No._ ” He said, poking an accusing finger into Hunk's shoulder. “It's on the _outside._ ”

“...Sure.”

“Man, you had me going for a second there,” Lance groaned after a beat. “I totally thought you were gonna dump my sorry ass.”

“Dumping would imply we were dating,” Hunk said with a shy smile.

“Well – you – are we? Uh, you know,” Lance waffled. “Do you wanna?” he settled on finally, realising he was not doing himself any favours acting like a total wimp.

“I don't go around kissing anyone, Lance,” Hunk said softly, curling a gentle hand around Lance's elbow.

Then, Hunk leaned in, pecking him softly on the lips, pulling back to catch Lance's gaze. It was as though Hunk was testing the waters, unsure of how far would be too far. Lance hadn't ever cared much for patience, it was just a means of letting self-doubt get too close.

So he had approximately zero regrets when he grabbed Hunk by the back of the neck and reeled him in, pressing their mouths together hard, not bothered about finesse so much as getting _closer._

Hunk hummed in the back of his throat before pulling away, but not so far that Lance couldn't feel his breath gusting over his cheeks. His eyes fluttered for a second before he blinked himself back into reality.

“Everyone is at Vrepit Sal's for brunch. Wanna go?” Hunk murmured, running a hand over the buzzed hair at the back of Lance's neck soothingly.

“Is that what _you_ wanna do?” Lance squinted at him.

“No, what I wanna do is take you back to mine and – ” He grinned, then shrugged. “Well, I'm sure you get the gist of it. But it's eleven in the morning and I am a self-respecting human being. Also I haven't had breakfast yet.”

Lance gasped dramatically. “You _always_ have breakfast.”

“I was nervous.”

“ _You_ were nervous!? Try getting sent a super ominous text from a guy you just made out with,” Lance grumped and Hunk patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“Let's go,” Hunk said, and then he grabbed Lance's hand, pulling him along behind him.

Flushing with a small smile, Lance bit his lip.

 _Finally,_ he thought.

 

_**_

 

They made it to Vrepit Sal's late, of course, because there was no way Lance was able to keep his hands to himself now he could say Hunk was _his_. It lit a fire in his heart he'd never felt before, and when Hunk kept sneaking glances at him from the side of his eye, it just made it burn brighter. The way he flushed crimson whenever Lance pounced on him and peppered his cheeks in sloppy kisses was pretty fucking cute, too.

Everyone was already sat down, plates piled high because apparently Sal was running some weird multi-cultural brunch buffet. There was food from every corner of the world, and Lance narrowed his eyes because he _really_ didn't think that miso soup and fruit salad should ever be on the same plate.

Yet there Keith was, there was the miso soup and assorted fruits, and Lance had never been more disappointed in him.

He stabbed his bacon with his fork and shoved the whole rasher into his mouth, still eyeing up Keith's plate.

Keith leaned towards him conspiratorially, a cruel glint in his eyes.

“I was with Allura this morning.”

“And that's supposed to be news to me, why?” Lance said, mouth full.

“We went to Zumba class together.”

Lance stared at him in shock, a grin splitting his cheeks. “Oh, my God. _What_?!” His head whipped around to check if anyone else was hearing what he was saying, but everyone was absorbed in their food.

“I know all the moves now,” Keith continued, “the Merengue, the Sleepy Leg, I even mastered rhythmic use of Cumbia.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Lance whispered, “I've literally never been happier.”

Keith sneakily pulled out his phone and kept it below the table, flicking through photos of him and Allura doing some weird synchronised middle-aged-woman dance moves. Keith had fucking _yoga pants_ on that left, appallingly, nothing to the imagination. Allura was wearing _leg warmers_.

“I'm telling you because if you tried to tell anyone else, they wouldn't believe a word you said,” Keith promptly deleted the photos and Lance let out a cry of dismay, reaching for the phone pathetically.

“You're a _monster,_ ” he said.

“I know. But I'm a monster who danced to Olly Murs this morning, and _you can't tell anyone_ ,” Keith smiled saccharine sweet before turning to Shiro and asking him to pass the bread.

“Keith does Zumba!” Lance shouted, and everyone turned to look at him with raised brows.

“Nice, Lance. Pull the other one,” Pidge snorted and Lance caught the curl of a smile on Shiro's lips and his eyes widened.

_That bastard is in on it!_

Keith subtly spun his wrists around one another under the table, face impassive as he stared Lance down.

“I hate you.” Lance grumbled.

“What's up your ass?” Hunk asked good-naturedly as he sat down next to him, plate piled high.

Shaking his head, he just reeled in Hunk towards him to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Nothin' at all unless you're offering,” he whispered before letting him rest back in his chair, cheeks flushed.

“Matt owes me a fiver!” Shiro burst out, staring between the two of them.

“What?” Hunk stared at him in confusion. Shiro was blasting the two of them with the full-force of his 'I'm proud of you and also look how perfect my teeth are' grin.

“ _Please_ tell me you did not place bets on us,” Lance groaned, burying his head in his hands.

“No, it was only Matt and Shiro,” Pidge piped up. “Matt's ability to navigate social queues is almost worse than mine and was convinced you two were just 'really good buddies',” she mocked in a eerily accurate impression of her brother.

“I called it from the moment Lance accidentally drooled on himself staring at your ass,” Shiro informed Hunk, somewhat excitedly.

Keith rolled his eyes, “I called it from the moment they first met.”

“Sweetheart. It's not a competition,” Shiro frowned at him.

“Tell that to the fiver Matt owes you,” Lance muttered, and Hunk laughed before twining their fingers together under the table.

 

**

It had been probably the best two weeks of Lance's measly life.

Now he didn't have to try and be covert about the fact he was staring at Hunk's ass, like, always, he was _unstoppable_. There was no force in the universe that could remove him from where he was permanently glued to Hunk's hip, and even Shiro and Keith were getting weirded out by their PDA.

But Lance couldn't help it. He wanted to make the most of their time together, because they didn't have a whole lot of it left. It took them an unreasonable chunk of time to actually get together, and Lance was determined to make up the time lost in as many ways as he could.

Hunk was easy-going in the sense that, like Lance, he thrived on being near people, on company. It didn't matter if they were just snugged up in front of Hunk's TV in silence, skating down the backstreets with their raucous laughter echoing behind them, or messing about with their friends in the ocean's spray, anything was fine. As long as they were together.

He knew from experience that they'd eventually grow out of that bone-deep need to be around each other 24/7, but he always found it to be the most exhilarating part of a new relationship. Although that day, Hunk actually had work to do (by way of convincing a bunch of puffed-up teenage boys that they could not, in fact, just go straight into the waves without drowning), so Lance spent the day with Keith and Pidge exploring the parts of town they had yet to see.

He waited for Hunk outside the shop that afternoon though, with a rollie behind each ear.

“And they say romance is dead,” Hunk said dryly as Lance placed the cigarette between his ( _God, fantastic, amazing, please kiss me right now_ ) lips and lit it for him.

“Better than flowers?”

Hunk just rolled his eyes, then slipped his warm hand in Lance's, swinging their arms a little as they wandered down the street.

When the night found them, Lance was pressed up against Hunk's body watching the waves crash in on the rocks. And even though they'd been to the beach what felt like a million times in the dead of night that past fortnight, it reminded him of their first kiss.

Briefly remembering he didn't actually need to feel any trepidation about kissing his boyfriend any more, he tipped his head up and reeled Hunk in to press their lips together chastely. Hunk smiled, and brushed the hand he wasn't leaning on against Lance's jaw almost reverently as he pressed in harder, moulding their lips together with a comforting familiarity.

Lance's mouth opened on a quiet exhale, and Hunk slipped his tongue past his lips, soft and wet and slow. Lance leaned into his kisses, trying to keep pace because if Hunk had taught him anything it was that making out didn't need to be quick and dirty to be good. It could be slow, like it was at that moment, and somehow one hundred times hotter for it because there was nothing else to focus on but the slick sounds of lips parting and pressing, and the way Hunk's breath would catch on low sounds every time Lance's caught the swell of his bottom lip between his teeth.

It didn't take much more of that until Lance was scrambling into Hunk's lap, which he had found to be his absolute favourite place in the world as of late, and twining his arms around his neck.

Hunk grunted, shifting to accommodate Lance's weight. He rested one hand on Lance's hip, palming it absent-mindedly as his other feathered through the buzzed hair on the nape of his neck.

Lance ducked down to trail sloppy kisses against Hunk's neck, reaching around to unabashedly take a handful of his ass, grinning into his shoulder when Hunk made an indignant noise. Sliding his hands upwards under Hunk's shirt, he continued to lick at the skin underneath his mouth with a quiet groan, wondering at the shift of hard muscle, that raw strength, hidden under softness.

He smiled again, thinking that that was actually a pretty good way to describe Hunk's personality, too. One of the strongest, fiercest people he had ever met, hidden under cheery smiles and friendliness.

Hunk pulled him back up and licked his way back into another languorous kiss, and without thinking, Lance rocked his hips down and they both moaned at the feeling so, naturally, he did it again... and again. And again. Until they were rutting against each other like teenagers, their kisses becoming less refined and messier by the second, until they were mostly just breathing each other's air with the occasional slick of a tongue.

Lance realised that if he didn't get off Hunk, their first time fucking was gonna end up with him getting sand between his ass cheeks and he wasn't sure if he was down for that.

“Hunk,” he panted, and then swallowed heavily as he stopped grinding down. “Hunk, not here.”

“Mmph.” Hunk smushed his face against Lance's shoulder with a nod.

“Hunk!” Lance chuckled, slapping his back. “Get up, big guy. Time to go back to yours and put a dick in my ass.”

Hunk looked up at him with narrowed eyes, wrinkling his nose. “Sometimes I think you're cute, then you open your mouth.”

“Only sometimes?” Lance pouted.

Shaking his head, Hunk gently eased Lance off his lap and stood up, offering him a chivalrous hand which Lance took gratefully. His legs felt like jelly.

“Come on then, little dude,” Hunk said casually as they shuffled towards the street, “let's go put a dick in your ass.”

 

**

 

 

 

Lance, being the limpet he was, made it very difficult to get back to Hunk's flat without stopping every other minute to press him against the nearest flat service and dry hump his leg.

They finally tripped through the door of the apartment, and Hunk had barely slipped off his shoes before Lance was dragging him determinedly in the direction of his bedroom while yanking his shirt over his head, dropping it carelessly in corridor.

He shoved Hunk back onto the bed hard, but found himself pulled down after him, landing awkwardly on top of him with a laugh.

Lance flipped them, rolling off where he was pressed against Hunk's hips and dragging him on top. Wrapping his legs around Hunk's waist, his thighs were splayed wide around them and he shivered at the stretch of it. He ground his hips up and showed him in no uncertain terms exactly what he wanted.

This whole time, everything had been gentle between them. Sure, their make-out sessions almost always ended in a blowie or covert hand-job, but Lance wanted to see exactly what Hunk was holding back. Wanted badly to see what would happen if he pushed his buttons and made him snap.

Hunk stared down at him, pupils blown wide as he took him in. Lance, knowing exactly how he looked, played it up and started running his hands along his torso, taking a second to brush his own nipple with a soft noise. Hunk hadn't made any move yet, just leaned into the clever twists of Lance's hips against his and looked on with the kind of fucked-out expression Lance craved.

“Like what you see?”

“You know I do.”

“Mmm,” Lance sighed, settling back against the pillows. “Why don't you prove it?”

“I dunno,” Hunk smiled slow and pretty, “you look like you're having plenty fun on your own.”

“You want a show, big guy?”

“Where's the fun in that?”

“I could make it fun for you,” Lance breathed, leaning up to slide his tongue against the shell of his ear, making sure Hunk felt what he was saying as well as heard it. “Could make you sit there and watch while I got myself going for you, fuck myself on my own fingers and not let you touch until I'm ready for it.”

Hunk moaned, and the sound went straight to Lance's gut, he felt arousal sink its lazy hooks into his belly and moved his lips down from Hunk's ear, dragging them purposefully down to his neck where he nipped at his pulse.

“ _Baby,_ ” Hunk ground out, “you know I can't handle it when you tease me.”

“Who says I'm teasin', love?” Lance said, continuing to mark him up, the pink welts blooming _so_ perfectly on his dark skin. “Maybe I'd do it all, maybe I'd keep you on your back and take your cock at my own pace.”

Someday, Lance was certain that he'd make good on those words, but right now all he could focus on was the tension bunched up in Hunk's muscles, and how he just needed to give him a little nudge in the right direction so he'd snap and decide that fucking Lance into the mattress was ultimately the best decision for the both of them.

Figuring teasing him with words was not the right tact, Lance took matters into his own hands, quite literally, and reached down between them to palm roughly at the hardness in Hunk's shorts, groaning at how fucking ready he was just from some light dirty talk.

They hadn't even _kissed_ properly since they got into the flat.

Hunk surged forward, fucking his tongue into Lance's mouth filthy and hot, drawing a searing line against the roof of his mouth as he wrestled Lance out of his shorts. He couldn't help but feel a little put out. If it was this easy to get Hunk to fuck him, he would've tried it a long time ago; used his body as some kind of freaky bargaining chip to get exactly what he wanted.

Hunk knelt in between his knees, brushing the inside of Lance's thighs in languid strokes, sending shivers up his spine. Leaning into him, Lance couldn't help but marvel at how kissing Hunk still made him feel so boneless.

He tugged at Hunk's t-shirt, stretching as he pulled it over his head and threw it to the side before clumsily pushing his shorts down. Hunk laughed, gently prying Lance's fingers from his waist band and sitting up to shimmy them all the way off with a clever twist of his hips that made Lance's eyes glaze over for a moment. He palmed himself through his jeans, licking his lips as he watched Hunk make quick work of his boxers.

It wasn't that he was even trying to affect Lance. He just couldn't keep himself in check when there was all that gorgeous brown skin in front of him, both soft and firm under his hands as he slid them up Hunk's chest with a groan, pinching at his nipples a little too hard so it startled a laugh out of Hunk.

Then he was on him, untying the shoelace Lance had looped through his jeans far too deftly for someone whose hands were that big.

“Don't lose that!” Lance yelped suddenly, grabbing the tie from Hunk's hands and placing it on the bedside table carefully.

Hunk looked at him curiously. “Why?”

Lance looked up guiltily, “I stole it from Pidge's boots and she hasn't noticed yet. Need to put it back tomorrow.”

“You're ridiculous,” Hunk told him before shucking down his jeans and briefs at the same time. Lance groaned shortly at the relief and immediately reached down to jack them both leisurely. Hunk cursed, watching Lance's hand on him for a moment before swearing again and leaning to the side.

There was a moment of fumbling when Hunk patted around in the bedside table blindly for condoms and lube because he was too stubborn to stop pressing gentle butterfly kisses to the corners of Lance's mouth, which was tipped up in an exasperated smile.

But then Hunk's slick fingers dipped between his legs, and Lance had to remind himself to breathe around the brief moments their lips were apart.

Lance wasn't going to lie. Being finger banged was usually the more laborious aspects of sex, and he never enjoyed it as much as he knew other people did. The guys (and some girls, too, admittedly) he'd been with before treated it like a means to an end, didn't try to drag it out like the foreplay it was supposed to be. It was uncomfortable, dull in pleasure and made Lance impatient for the main event.

Tonight was on a whole other level.

Hunk treated it like it _was_ the main event. He was efficient in his the way he fucked Lance onto those deliciously thick fingers, but also made a point to seek out the places inside of him that made an intense pleasure coil low in his gut and before he knew it his head was lolling to the side as short gasps slipped past his lips.

Lance had to hold the _fuck on_ because if it felt this good this early on, what was _actually_ being fucked by Hunk going to feel like?

“You think you're ready for me, baby?” Hunk rasped against his neck and Lance nodded frantically, locking his legs even tighter against Hunk's broad hips. He rutted back onto Hunk, who was three fingers deep and then nodded again when he realised there was no ache to speak of.

“Y – yeah, please, 'm ready,” said Lance as he grabbed at Hunk's ass, trying to pull him towards exactly where Lance wanted him

“Just hang on,” Hunk groaned, fumbling for the condoms he'd thrown to the side of the bed and tearing the packet open with his teeth which was _way_ hotter than it should have been.

They both held their breath as he lined himself up, fucking himself into Lance with short, gentle thrusts. Lance scrabbled at his shoulders when he felt their hips press against each other, hooking an elbow around the back of Hunk's neck and pressing a breathless kiss to his lips.

Their foreheads were pressed together tightly, and Hunk rolled his hips experimentally, both of them moaning at the feeling, “you're so fucking _tight._ ”

His voice was a shaken rasp, and Lance made a grab for Hunk's ass again, trying to convey in some way other than words (because they had gone out the fucking window) that he needed to _move._ Like. Yesterday.

He seemed to get the picture, and started thrusting into Lance in these insanely tight gyrations of his hips and Lance couldn't remember the last time he was with someone who wanted to take things so slow with him.

He had come to the conclusion long ago that he must have some weird energy that said 'fuck me as fast as you can, no problem. Slow? Never heard of her'.

It was overwhelming. It was hard to find something in the moment to ground him when every drag of Hunk's cock inside of him licked flames up his spine, making his legs tremble hard on either side of him. Fuck even his fingers were shaking, and on every quivering breath he took he realised he was making embarrassingly high sounds.

Too much, not enough, and everything he needed all at once.

And the small, aborted grunts worming their way out of Hunk's throat every time he pushed back in weren't helping Lance in trying to hold back.

Finally, he blurted out, “don't need to so slow.”

Hunk stared at him like he was a madman, before smiling and littering sloppy little kisses up Lance's throat.

“But I want to, baby. Wanna take my time with you,” he said, and Lance wheezed, flustered.

He swallowed, unused to feeling so cherished. All thoughts of egging Hunk on until he was bent in half went out the window in the face of all that _tenderness_. The fact the Hunk was getting off on those measured thrusts he was using the drive lance crazy was incredible.

Realising that he was letting his own insecurities about how he was 'supposed to have sex' get the better of him, Lance slowed down his own movements. Every time Hunk fucked back into him, Lance rolled his ass down and oh – fuck. Yeah. That was actually lush. Eventually, they managed to create a steady rhythm between the two of them, perfectly in sync.

“There we go,” Hunk groaned, “you got it.

Nodding, Lance whined as Hunk's cock skirted past his prostate again, teasingly close.

“F- fuck, feels way too good 'm not gonna last,” he said, voice breaking.

“You are.” Hunk bit out, and his voice held a dangerous promise that was totally at odds with his gentle movements. Lance whimpered. Sweat slid between their chests, and Hunk continued to thrust steadily as they kissed, tongues twinging slowly and lips moving in perfect time to the soft sounds of their bodies meeting between rolling hips.

If Lance was any good at poetry, he'd probably wax lyrical about how he never knew sex could sound like music before, like a secret song shared between people in what was his ultimate act of intimacy. But Lance was not a poet. So he settled for crying out Hunk's name like it was gospel instead.

Lance could tell the moment Hunk wanted to stop dragging everything out, and start chasing their climaxes when he angled his hips just so and rammed in a bit harder so his cock dragged lusciously over his prostate.

“A- ah, god, right there!” Lance yelped, practically vibrating with the intensity of pleasure Hunk's incredible aim had shot through him.

“Here?” he could hear the smile in Hunk's voice as he continued to push in at the same angle – that same perfect, perfect fucking angle that was shooting off fireworks behind his eyes. It wouldn't take long now before Hunk could get him there.

The pleasure felt like it was cresting from peak to peak, _higher_ and _higher_ , until Lance didn't know where he ended and Hunk began, only that there was nowhere he'd rather be but moving with Hunk _just like that_.

“Fuck! _yes yes yes_ , don't stop 'm gonna come please, _fuck,_ ” Lance cried out suddenly when that familiar warmth spread through him, curling his toes tightly and splaying his fingers where they scrambled for purchase in the sweat on Hunk's back as he continued to rail into him, keeping up that maddening pace all the while.

Reaching between them to slide a palm against his own cock was all the friction he needed and he jackknifed in on himself, shouting his release as he shook, kept safe in Hunk's soothing palms.

But Hunk didn't stop moving, kept fucking Lance through it and it made it feel like his orgasm just _kept on going_ , drawing it out on that fine line between complete bliss and oversensitivity.

Just when he thought it might be too much, Hunk's hips stuttered in that insane composure and he came with an aborted groan, burying his face in the juncture between lance's neck and shoulder, licking at the salt clinging to the skin there mindlessly.

They lay in each other's arms, breathless, until Hunk made a happy noise and pressed warm kisses up the side of Lance's neck until he reached his lips, but skimmed past them to pepper his cheeks and eyelids in gentle little butterfly kisses that tickled and made a giggle bubble up out of his chest.

“And to think, we could have been doing that the entire time,” Lance chuckled, grabbing Hunk's cheeks between his hands and smacking a wet kiss on his lips while he squirmed.

“Nah, we couldn't,” Hunk said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He pulled out, wincing in sympathy at the short noise of discomfort Lance made, and lay next to him on the bed.

“Why not?” Lance asked, affronted.

“Not sure I would have built myself up enough to go slow. Pretty sure I would have had you walkin' funny for a week if we'd have fucked the day we'd met. You look fine at, like, _all times_.”

Lance laughed. “Dude, I have approximately zero complaints about you fucking me through a mattress.”

“Mmm, still... Wanted you to remember this, knew I wanted to take it slow, etch myself into you so nobody else would be able to fuck you ever again without you thinking of me.” As he spoke, he let his hands sweep reverently over Lance's body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Jesus, dude, are you trying to get me hard again?” Lance yelped, swatting his clever fingers away.

Hunk grinned.“Is it working?”

Lance just flushed, and reached out to trace the freckles on Hunk's shoulder. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “B – besides, not gonna be fucking anyone else. Ever again.”

“O – oh, yeah?” Hunk said, blushing.

Suddenly, it felt like they hadn't just had the most amazing sex of Lance's life. And it felt like they were a couple of moony teenagers sat on a park bench, too shy to even hold hands. Lance's couldn't help the mirrored flush that bloomed across his cheeks and he nodded, ducking his head in embarrassment.

“You're so beautiful,” Hunk murmured.

Lance pressed one, last lingering kiss to his mouth before pulling away with a huff of laughter,“You big cheese.”

“You think that was cheesy?” Hunk said, trying to keep a straight face.

“You think you can do better?” Lance retorted.

He leaned in, resting their foreheads together with an overly wistful sigh. He trailed a single single down Lance's cheeks and Lance cringed, trying not to laugh at how plain weird that was.

“You're _whispers_ in _sunlight_ ,” Hunk said, fluttering his eyelashes. “And if I had a rose for every time your smile made me – ”

“ _God_!” Lance cackled, shoving him away and blushing furiously. “Fine! You win!”

Hunk finally broke face, laughing.

Lance realised, then, that there was something big growing in his chest. Something he wasn't sure he was ready to tell Hunk about, but was viscerally aware of. It flared to life whenever the corners of Hunk's eyes crinkled up with his smile, when he laughed so hard he made a cute wheezing noise. It reminded Lance of its existence whenever Hunk's happiness shone so bright it was enough to knock the breath out of him.

He didn't know when he would be ready to tell Hunk all of this, because there was definitely a word attached to those kinds of feelings and he couldn't even _think_ it yet, let alone say it out loud.

But in that moment, there was the sound of Hunk's laughter, and his own echoing behind it, and he knew that spoke volumes.

 

**

The last month of their stay sailed by startlingly fast, so much so that Lance could hardly believe it when he was stood in the centre of Hunk's living room, surrounded by his all of his neatly packed bags.

He stared at them accusingly, as though the innocent luggage at his feet was to blame for the lump in his throat.

So many anxieties swirled up inside of him – _what if this is just a summer fling? What if when the winter comes it loses its meaning? I want to stay here, I want him to come with me. Fuck, why is Cornwall so bloody far away?_

Hunk made his way into the room, pulling a flannel on as he walked. He looked as nervous as Lance felt.

“I, uh, I have something for you,” he said as he moved to stand in front of Lance.

Lance smiled widely, “a present?”

Hunk snorted. “Not that kind you big perv. Look, just. Just close your eyes for me, yeah?”

He closed them, and startled slightly when he felt Hunk take his hand and slide something suspiciously ring-like on his pinky finger.

“You can open them.”

Lance looked down at the ring, heart pounding a tattoo against his chest at what it could possibly mean, at all the things unspoken that it represented between them. The bright-yellow gold band had been warped where it rested just underneath his knuckle into the shape of a cresting wave. It was pretty, and he swallowed the lump in his throat when he looked back up at Hunk.

“I thought you'd like it,” he said awkwardly, scratching his at his cheek.

“I love it!” Lance burst out, grabbing Hunk's hand. “I really do.”

“You sure, man?” Hunk eyed him suspiciously.

“Yeah, it's... it's something else... Did you make this?”

“Actually, yeah, I did,” Hunk grinned, that confidence flickering back to life in his hazel eyes.

“I honestly don't know what to say.”

Hunk twined their fingers together and pressed a gentle kiss to Lance's cheek, before saying softly, “wanted to give you something to remember me by.”

That stubborn lump wedged itself in the back of his throat again, and he felt his eyes prickle with the familiar feeling of tears so he surged forwards and met Hunk's lips with his own.

It felt impossible that they wouldn't be able to have this every day, that he wouldn't be able to trace the callouses on Hunk's palms and rub their cheeks together on a morning just to watch him squirm at Lance's stubble.

His mam and sister had always sat in front of him, harping on about how _you just know_ when you meet the person you're meant to be with. He remembered rolling his eyes, turning on his heel and texting whoever he thought might be game for a quick fool around.

Now? Well, he'll be saying the exact thing to his little brother and sister. He'll be saying 'you know it's real, not because your heart beats faster every time you see them, but because your heart beats _slower_ and you know wherever they are is where home is'. _He'll_ be the one harping on about all sorts of mushy bullshit while fiddling with the ring on his finger knowing it means he would be going home again soon.

He realised his mind was always full of beautiful thoughts whenever his skin was against Hunk's skin, that there was no room for sadness when he felt their lips brushing together tenderly.

“You're not making it easy for me to let you go,” Hunk sighed, pulling Lance towards him and wrapping his arms around him. Looping his arms around Hunk's neck, Lance tried to hide his meek sniffle.

“Touché, big guy. I'm quitting school. Gonna take up a full time job as your personal koala,” Lance said shakily.

“As much as I'd love that, I think I'd prefer you to be a fully qualified koala,” Hunk's laugh was choked up and that just made Lance squeeze him harder.

“Fuck, I'm going to miss you _so_ much.”

“I know,” Hunk smiled as he pushed Lance upright, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You need to go, though. Don't wanna keep Pidge waiting.”

“What about Keith?”

“Keith is probably having the exact same issue we're having right now, I doubt he'll mind if you're late setting off. Pidge on the other hand...”

“Will skin me alive because she has work tomorrow. I know.”

“C'mon, I'll carry your bags to the car for you and everything.”

“There he is,” Lance grinned, opening his arms wide. “The man of my dreams.”

As it turned out, Hunk wasn't actually capable of carrying all of Lance's luggage no matter how strong the guy was, so they had to heave it towards Lance's car together.

Pidge was leaning against the bonnet, looking far too cool for her own good in a dark green sweatshirt and jean shorts, skate socks pulled halfway up her calves. Lance hid his smile. The holiday had changed Pidge too, in a way. She seemed far more relaxed than she'd been before, looking less like she wanted to burn every human near her and more like she could actually engage them in conversation.

“You two are actually here earlier than I thought. Keith is still MIA. Might have to crowbar him from Takashi's cold dead body at this rate,” she commented dryly, popping open the boot for them to relieve themselves from all of Lance's bags.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Keith grumbled from behind them. Unsurprisingly, he was dry-eyed. Although the same couldn't be said for Shiro, whose cheeks were flushed and eyes puffy from crying. Lance clucked in sympathy.

There was a moment of hesitation from everyone, as they realised this was the moment they had all been dreading since day one.

“Alright, get in the car ya big lugs,” Pidge burst out finally. “Shiro, Hunk, no doubt I'll be seeing you both soon. It's been a ride, but – ”

She was cut off as Shiro scooped her up in a hug, sniffing loudly.

“I'll miss you, little one,” he said in a voice that was far too sweet to be coming from such a huge guy.

“I'll miss you, too, _dad,_ ” she rolled her eyes but there was no real bite to her words, and she patted his back awkwardly. When they finally managed to coax Shiro into putting Pidge down before he cut off her airways, she turned to Hunk with her hands on her hips. “I suppose you'll be wanting a hug too before I skip town?”

Hunk grinned, “I feel like I handshake would be more your thing, but sometimes you gotta put yourself first and right now I want a hug off you, you little freak.”

And once again, Pidge let herself be wrapped up in the arms of a man three times her size, although there was significantly less tears and snot involved with Hunk's embrace.

“Right! Let's hit the road, boys. I want _at least_ one hour's sleep before work tomorrow,” Pidge said definitively.

Hunk's expression was tight. He wasn't the type to cry as openly as Shiro, and Lance offered him a tremulous smile. It was hard to untangle their fingers as Lance slid into the driver's seat.

He rolled down the window, and leaned out to wave goodbye, but was met with one last press of Hunk's lips against his. A chaste, small parting gift that he knew would hold a special place in his heart until they could see each other again.

Pidge, Keith, and Lance all leaned out of the window as they waved goodbye, shouting teary farewells way beyond what Shiro and Hunk could have heard.

Turning back to the road, Lance sniffed loudly. Pidge passed him a tissue from where she was sat in the passenger seat, eyes suspiciously wet, and then threw the rest of the packet to where Keith was.

“I'm not crying!” he said on a sob.

“Needed to hold it together for your big strong man?” Pidge teased, and Lance felt his mood lift. Man, how was it she always knew that making fun of Keith cheered everyone up. Including Keith himself.

“Har, har,” Keith grumbled. “Why are you not making fun of Lance's ugly crying face?”

“Excuse you! I happen to look fine at all times. My boyfriend told me so. All your boyfriend does is look like a kicked puppy, are you feeding it properly? Watering it?”

“I water him plenty,” Keith smirked and Pidge gagged.

“Keith! Gross!”

Lance cackled, and turned the radio up. Because even as he knew he'd miss Hunk, and feel the ache of his absence intensely, it was a good feeling to know he wouldn't actually be _alone_.

Pidge caught his eye, and being the overly-perceptive young woman she was, held his hand loosely and rested it against the console with a small smile.

“You'll be back before you know it,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Lance smiled. “I know.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Lance drives a 2001 ford fiesta if u cared to know. That's my ultimate non voltron au head canon. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at eatjamfast!! come talk to me about hance (or anything because I'm in multishipping HELL)


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